KoЯn
by CriminallyInsane.com
Summary: It all started on a dark, dreary day at a cemetery. Oh, how Chianti regrets having come to the funeral... but it wasn't like she had much of a a choice in first place. BO-centric. Rated for character death, mild violence, language, vague themes, etc.


**KoЯn – A Detective Conan FanFic**

**A/N: I'm so sorry, I couldn't resist! **

**More at the end of the fic. **

It was a dark, depressing day.

At least, so it seemed. Because it is _always _a dark, depressing day at a graveyard, even if the sun is shining and birds are twittering and the sky is about to go into cardiac arrest due to the diabetes it had had ever since the day started since it was so freaking sweet. Unless, of course, it is night.

Which it was not.

It was also not such a blindingly bright and beautiful day, because the authoress would rather take on Mr Bubbles than write a story like that. Except if she was simply describing the illusion of what a certain little sibling would see, and it was really all a desolate battlefield.

Anyways, back to the subject at hand.

Ten or so figures were stood huddled around a dim grey gravestone, all wearing black. Which would have been –and still is- the perfect funeral attire, even if it was part of their so-called dress-code.

Indeed, every day these people got up, they had to don these dark pieces of clothing, why, they did not know. Perhaps it was because dirt (except for stubborn little things such as milk, or blood stains, or cat fur, or lightly-coloured human hair) did not usually show up on black. It was more probable that it had something to do with black being the colour of all that is mysterious and evil.

No, it hadn't been in the job description. If it had been, at least one in three people would not be there, instead having sunk to much lower standards, such as hanging out at gay-bars, explaining their out-of-character actions with a simple 'the music is better here!'.

These people were members of a notorious group of generic villains known only as the Black Organization, and if the dear reader isn't a complete doofus, they would have figured this out by now.

And, putting together two facts; members of the Black Organization, attending a funeral, one can come to one of three conclusions.

One: aliens had taken over their bodies and they are attending a ritual to summon the mothership; two: they had all converted to hippie-ism and were attending the funeral of one of their own victims; or three: one of their own had died, and they were attending this person's funeral.

And while they are all equally far-fetched, I will tell you now that there is only one truth, and the most unbelievable of them all is the pure, uncensored, un4kids'd reality.

And that is option three.

I know, you're all like 'what the fuck?!'! I was, too! I mean, seriously, what the hell are the chances of one of the members dying?! But, as I've mentioned before, it is true.

Known to his closest acquaintances (because there is no such thing as 'friends' in the syndicate) as Korn, this quiet, reserved man had died a few days ago, of natural causes.

And when I say natural causes, I do _not _mean blood loss, brain damage, asphyxiation, stabbification, poison, broken spine, or combustion.

No. The culprit was, as a certain nosey little detective boy by the name of Kudou Shinichi would say, a heart attack. And he would do so while pointing accusingly. Didn't he know it was rude to point?

No-one really cared much about the demise; they had been trained not to, and people died all over the place anyways; it was part of their job. But his now ex-partner (because in the organization, the members always operated in pairs, unless their Boss stated otherwise) wasn't too amused by his sudden and unpredicted departure.

In fact, Chianti was rather peeved. She'd gotten along just fine with the older man! Why did he have to go and kick the bucket now?! Great, now she'd have to find a new partner. Who knows what sort of a sexist asshole she'd be assigned to. She growled under her breath.

And what darkened the sniper-assassin's day (and expression) even further was a certain blonde actress who was holding a speech in the dead operative's name, fake honey dripping from her voice, smile more of a taunting smirk.

Vermouth.

Oh, how Chianti wanted to rip off that pretty face of hers. Or, even better, honor her profession and snipe off her head, blast it to shreds, blow out the brains, or jaw, or eyes…

"Korn was a lovely man, and although he rarely spoke, when he did, only wise, meaningful words came out. Also…" …too bad she was the Boss's favorite.

Other than herself and Vermouth (and, of course, Korn's stiff body, but that didn't count), there were seven other people. Gin, the tall man with the longest hair and coldest eyes she'd ever seen; his trusty and slightly forgetful subordinate-sidekick Vodka, who always wore sunglasses, even now; Rosé and Jenever, a man and a woman respectively, two young (and by that, she meant early twenties) operatives she had only briefly met before; the Boss, who had taken his time to give a last farewell to his faithful employee (just another person who had died in his name); the new Tequila, since the old one had died in a bomb-blast a few months ago; and a strange man she didn't know at all, perhaps one of Korn's old drinking buddies, with stringy-looking shoulder-length hair.

"Korn," Vermouth had finality in her voice, thank god that terrible speech that no-one was listening to was coming to an end, "We will miss you," yeah, right. "Goodbye."

And with that, she set the corpse alight. Yes, he was going to be cremated, what other way was there to get rid of unneeded evidence? Because that was all he was now. Unneeded evidence.

Funnily enough, the corpse was doused in not only gasoline, but also a few bottles of alcohol. Specifically, the type he was named after. She smirked at the ironic little ritual.

While the flames were still flickering, conversation suddenly burst out, and most people turned away to go back to their cars before the stench of smoke got a too strong grip to their clothes and hair.

"Chianti," the Boss's cold, calm voice came from behind her, and she turned. Next to him was the strange man from before.

"Sir," she nodded her head in respect.

"I would like you to meet Jonathan Davis," He motioned towards the unknown man. Now that she was up close, she could finally properly see what he looked like.

The first thing she noticed about him was the dark-blonde/light brown hair, which, she realized now, was threaded into finger-thick dreadlocks that fell past his shoulders. Slightly tanned skin, brown eyes, early thirties. Unlike the rest of the group, his clothing was very casual; with black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, which, ironically, had the letters KoЯn printed on in white letters. He was obviously American.

Scrutinizing him with a critical eye and a light scowl on her face, she finally turned back to the Boss. "What about him?"

"He will be your partner from now on. Like your pervious partner, he is a trained sniper, and like your previous partner, his codename as of now is Korn."

It took a moment for the message to hit home.

This punk, , this asshole, this… this _American_ was going to be her new partner?! What the fuck?!!

She snarled angrily and turned away. There was no way in _hell _that she would stand for this.

--

**A/N: **

**So, how was that?**

**I know, a little rusty, but in my defense, I tried using a different writing style. A lot more description, and less rant. Is it any good? =/**

**And I might (keyword; **_**might**_**) write more concerning this… strange development if I get time (and review… hinthintHINT)**

**Anyways, disclaimers! I own nothing whatsoever, except for the plot and my OCs. **

**Jenever and Rosé are from another fic which I probably won't ever post; is influenced strongly by a certain PC/PS/360 game. The so-called 'new Tequila' probably won't have much importance, so don't worry your silly little heads about it. :D**

**As for Jonathan Davis… he… is lead-singer of my current favorite band… called… KoЯn… *head/desk* **

**As I said before, I couldn't resist! I'm sorry I had to sacrifice the old Korn for him, but it was just too much of an opportunity!**

**So please, please, please review! **

**I'm not begging! **

**I swear I'm not!! **

_**PLEASE!!!!**_** *falls to knees***

**Okay, maybe I **_**am **_**begging, but come one! Just one little review! I swear I'll do your dishes and clean your room and bomb your school and whatnot! I'm a desperate woman! Come **_**on**_**!**

**NONONONOONOO don't click me away! Don't you **_**dare**_** press 'X'! **

**You cruel, heartless butter-faces! Pleeeeaaasseeee!!!!**

**C'mon!!! Just one review, even if it degrades everything and anything I ever stood for and tells me KoЯn sucks!**

**CLICK.**

**V**

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